So That Happened Too
by sakizar
Summary: Missing scene (maybe plural) from Relative Insanity series. (If there are more to come they'll mostly be from Greek Tragicomedy.)
1. And Where Did You Come From?

**AN: This was posted on AO3 as separate story &amp; as tag to chapter from 'Greek Tragicomedy of Stark'. But I've finally decided that I'm definitely going to write more side stories. **

**The next one will probably be after the chapter on _Thor _in 'GTS'. **

* * *

**Chapter 1: And Where Did You Come From?**

_July 2003..._

Jim hates having meetings with Tony.

No matter what his intention, everything with Tony devolves into Jim clucking over Tony's behavior and Tony pulling Jim into the same reckless misfortune that made them infamous on the MIT campus. It didn't help that Jim found his job as liaison to SI incredibly boring when he wasn't dealing directly with Tony.

It was in fact probably very telling. Jim hates thinking about this, but Tony can be pervasive to the point that it's difficult to compartmentalize his presence in your life.

Jim shakes his head as he exits the hanger. The tech this time was a sophisticated UAV. Cool, but Jim would always advocate against them. As much as he loved Jay, he had grown up reading all the science-fiction he could and found arming autonomous machines downright terrifying.

And speaking of terrifying, outside of the hanger there was a young girl listening to an mp3 player. And was security bad enough here that a kid could sneak onto Tony Stark's air-field? Because he would have words about allowing unauthorized kids access into space with potentially dangerous military tech.

But here was this little brunette with huge headphones, dark shades, and a high pony-tail snapping gum and sitting against the hanger wall, reading from a book thick enough to kill a man if launched at his head.

He nudges her with a booted toe. She sighs and removes her headphones. "Took you long enough, was Rhodey as long-winded as I said he would be? You know he hates UAVs. I don't -" She interrupts herself as she looks up. "Oh." She scowls and dog-ears her page before closing her book and extending an imperious hand up. "Well, that was awkward. But still I was mid-rant and well, whatever, right?" Her tone is forcibly breezy as she stands and waves a dismissive hand. "Salient point, though. I have no clue why he keeps showing you the UAVs. He knows you find them cool but creepy. I think he's trying outcool the creepy enough for you to admit that they're awesome." She gives him a glance over her shades. "And really you can admit it to me if you want. I totally won't tell. Because he's really starting to outdo himself because seriously the last few have been seriously fucking awesome."

With that she just stops talking and gazes up expectantly, bouncing slightly.

"Um, I guess?" Jim just doesn't even know. This kid obviously knows Tony, but he can't think of how. "Are you supposed to be here?"

"Yep, I'm with Tony for the day. He said he forgot that Pepper scheduled this for today. Was really apologetic, but still needed not to blow you off. He said he'd been doing that too often lately." She gives him a sad, apologetic look. "He's been a bit busy lately. He hasn't been able to get down to San Diego lately." She brightens almost as fast as her face had fallen a moment before. "But then I asked Dave and Maddy if I could come up her and they agreed. It's been great." She wrinkles her nose good-naturedly. "Even if Tony makes me do extra homework."

Right. And her chattering isn't helping him pin down where he's seen her before. Except... But, no. She can't be...

"Hey, Echo." The note in Tony's voice is cautious. "You're early. I said I'd come get you when I was finished here."

Echo shoots past Jim to wrap herself around Tony in the hanger door. And, oh dear Lord, Tony fucking Stark is gazing down at her with something like fondness in his eyes.

"Tony."

And his friend's gaze shoots up to meet his glare over the girl's diminutive shoulder. "Rhodey! Hey, what're you still doing here?"

"Tony, you didn't."

"Stop it. She's standing right here." Tony's glaring now. And patting the head of Echo.

Jim sighs. "What kind of name is Echo?"

Now the girl is grinning at him. And wow, that's an impending-danger-should-not-come-from-this-small-a-package grin. "It's Greek, but my name is Darcy. Darcy Lewis." She shoves her hand at him.

He shakes it automatically. "That your mom's name? Lewis?"

She yanks her hand back and stares at the ground. "Um, yeah. But it's also my adoptive parents' name. Dave is my mom's brother. He and Maddy adopted me."

Jim winces. That was a touchy subject if he ever saw one. "Dave and Maddy, huh? Are they nice?"

"Yeah." She takes a deep breath. "Marie Lewis died in a car accident when I was three months. That's when I was adopted. I found out three years ago but," She shrugs, "I never got a chance to know her or mourn her."

"Marie Lewis? Why does that sound familiar?"

Darcy shoots Tony a wicked smile. "She was his PA. All very scandalous. Obie sent her away." Her tone is joking but something about her posture when she mentions Stane is off. A little too hunched.

"Huh, okay." Jim's never really liked Stane either, but Tony always acts like the man is his second father. "So, Tony's known about you since your adoption? And he's been in contact with you?"

They both hear the odd note in his voice, and it's a little scary how similar their reactions are. They both tense and wince and cast glances at each other. It's just really, really weird.

Tony breaks the silence first. He rubs the back of his neck and says, "Yeah, Dave caught me watching her one day in the park and commandeered me as an uncle. She met Obie a while ago, but no one else knows."

"So as your best friend I don't rate as godfather?" And Jim's joking. This is totally the way he words things when he's messing with Tony except it really does hurt. He doesn't know how to feel about the fact that he's considered Tony a brother for years, but Tony hasn't seen fit to trust him with this.

"Rhodey." Darcy's up close and personal in the same way that Tony always is, and Jim can't help but wonder how much is imitation and how much is natural inclination, wonder what this girl would be like without Tony. But that's not important because Darcy's talking again. "It wasn't a matter of trust or that whole loose lips sink ships, or crash planes, whatever." She dismisses the tangent with a hand-wave, but just keeps rolling on. "It was just that he was trying to limit how much of this world I get exposed to. He wants to make sure that I get a normal childhood." She grins at Tony. "Well, normal as a childhood could possibly be around him."

Jim smiles at her because, yeah, he could get used to her. "So, what's on the agenda for the weekend?"

* * *

**AN2: And then they ride off into the sunset where Rhodey tells horrible, horrible lies about their time at MIT that are completely and utterly true. Because this is Tony's life, and for reasons beyond his understanding he surrounds himself with people that are crazy and just mock him for all time.**

**~S**


	2. T and A

**So I should probably have held on to this chap a while longer. It should also probably be in GTS but nope it's going here. I am so sorry b/c the majority of this chap has been written since at least May, but I kept getting busy and fiddling with it so yeah. But I'm getting tired of seeing it just sitting here so I'm posting it.**

**This is set right after the Heracles chap and the night before the Athena chap which should be posted in either a few min, a few days, or a few mths. I am so unreliable. (Sigh.)**

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**Chapter 2: T and A **

_June 2010..._

Clint's been hanging back. Or, well, hanging out up high on a truck, whichever. Watching the short brunette scowl and yell at Coulson. Which is weird because normally Phil wouldn't allow someone the liberty of maligning his character. He drops down after she stomps off. "So, Phil, who was that?"

Phil is the worst. He never startles when Clint jumps down from high places. Oh well, he just needs to try harder. "Agent Barton. You know very well that was Foster's assistant. I believe Agent Sitwell requires your assistance with the clean up."

"Really? I don't think so." Because that, that is a blatant lie. Sitwell _hates_ when Clint is assigned to help him with baby agent BS. "Fine. I'll find out on my own. Because you know that's not what I meant."

"Specialist-"

"Sir. With all due respect, you recruit someone by shooting them in the leg, you tell them about your creepy stalker-ish conversations with nubile young graduate students."

Coulson sighs. "Really, Clint, it was nothing. She's just a girl. She's just Foster's grad student. A civilian. Not a plant. I'm not trying to steer you off-course. Just leave the girl alone. You'll only regret it."

Clint grins at Phil's wince. Because, really, that was as good as waving a red banner before a bull. "See, this is just making me want to talk to her more." He winks and takes off walking backwards.

Phil shakes his head. "Do what you like, Barton. Don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

Clint decides that he's not sure if this girl, Darcy, is hustling him, if he's hustling her, or if they're both hustling each other. He is, however, reasonably sure that under different circumstances he would've fallen so idiotically hard for this bitch.

He shakes his head and leans back as she breaks for their third game. "So, Darcy, right?" He grunts at her nod. Huh, that was a sucky break. She didn't sink any of the balls. "What did you think about the ...?" Clint doesn't even know what to say about what happened and ends up waving vaguely.

She points at his face and laughs. "Exactly! How are we supposed to describe this?"

He shrugs as he lines up his shot. "Technically, you signed an NDA. You're not supposed to talk about it." His shot goes wild, hitting balls but not sinking anything. Beautiful. He loves dragging out the game.

She narrows her eyes and stares hard at him before brightening and flouncing up to line line up her shot. She aims. She shoots. The cue ball hits every board. But it doesn't hit a single ball.

Clint freezes. Her ball covered the entire table without hitting a single colored ball. It is _not_ easy to do that. After her break and his wild shot, the balls were thoroughly scattered. And yet she didn't hit a single fucking ball.

"Well, that was certainly a shot."

She drinks deeply from her beer and grins back at him. "Wasn't it, though?"

He stands away from her and from the table. "So, we acknowledging the fact that we both just missed on purpose?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I just really suck at pool."

He shrugs. "Whatever, just know that I play at skill level. So this game might take a while if you plan to keep doing that."

"Whatever, I'm playing. Don't get your panties in a twist."

"You're hustling me." He argues after he again fails to sink any balls. "Or at the very least you're playing badly on purpose since we weren't actually playing for cash. Normally fine. But kind of counterproductive if I know about it. And y'know, can do it right back."

"Fine, new game. First one to sink a ball does a forfeit."

He stands out of her way. Her chipper attitude is a little off-puting, like when Natasha's greasing a mark. "What kind of forfeit?"

"What?" She smirks. "Scared of a little girl, cowboy?"

"No, just wary of small women," he asks, reaching for his beer.

"Let's see." She eyes him up and down. "I want your underwear."

He chokes and is damn proud that her comment didn't drag out a spit-take.

"Aw, sweetums, are you bashful?" She leans over at him, laughing with her eyes over interlaced fingers. "I thought Agent C would've beaten that out of his field operatives by now."

"Well, I'm more of a long-range tool than a super-secret agent. I can do espionage, but it's not why Coulson keeps me around."

"Long-range?" She asks tilting her head.

"My code name is Hawkeye. What did you think that meant? I'm a sniper."

"Ah, I didn't actually know you had a code name."

"Oh. Who are you?"

She gives him a look like 'You're not really that stupid, are you?'

"Jane's girl Friday. Who did you think I was?"

"A plant. Coulson said you weren't, but there was something distintly shifty about the way he said it. So, how did you know Coulson before all this..." He gestures expansively, taking in the town, the wreckage from a smackdown between aliens or gods or whatever, and the fact that they are not alone in the universe.

"Hmmm, long story. Boring one, too." She waves him off. "Maybe later."

"But you were scolding him? He doesn't let strangers or, hell, people scold him. I've seen maybe two people get away with it before you."

She pouts. "Not even if he stole my iPod?"

"Your iPod?" Clint scoffs, watching her take another atrociously good shot. "He could've stolen your grandmother's pension and still not allow himself to be scolded."

"Hmmm, I scolded him the first time I met him."

"And he let you?"

"There wasn't a lot he could do. I was either going to scold him or cry on him. Besides he was acting like he was going to disappear me. Not on."

"Huh, that might've done it. He doesn't have a lot of use for tears."

"So, you're a sniper?"

"Yeah."

"That why you're so chatty on the ground?"

"How's that?"

"You must spend a lot of time alone in high, quiet spots."

"Yeah." He shrugs. "There's that."

"So, you take your opportunites to talk when you can?"

"Meh."

"We agreed on the forfeit? Loser loses their underwear?"

Clint squints at her. "Um, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this. You've been drinking -"

"Oh, sweetums, that is just adorable. I'm a college student. Alcohol poisoning is part of my culture."

"Um, okay, well, I've been drinking pretty heavily then, and I'm still not comfortable with this."

"God, you're such a prude. I wouldn't have expected a carny to be that sheltered."

Clint freezes. "How did you know that?"

Darcy rolls her eyes. "Please, where would a man working for a para-military organization as a sniper with those calluses get a code name like 'Hawkeye.' If you were a pilot you might have gotten away with saying it was a call sign. But you said code name the way someone would say stage-name."

"Huh, maybe Coulson should recruit you."

"Oh, trust me. He'll try. Hell, one day he might succeed. He knows not to try right now though."

"Why?"

"I'm getting my education. I'm getting the credentials I'll need to get the assholes to pay attention to what I'm saying."

"Which assholes?"

"Knowing Coulson? Senator assholes, congress assholes, general assholes, Reed fucking Richards."

Clint can't help it. He snorts out a laugh. "Yeah, that guy is really annoying. I'm not actually sure what he was doing there, but he was there, and I almost shot his ass with an arrow."

"Did you hear about what happened to the expedition?"

"Yeah. How did you hear?"

"Are you kidding? Everyone saw Johnny and his bike stunt."

"Right. They went pretty public."

"Not to mention the thing with Victor."

"Okay, I get it. That was a stupid question."

"Yeah, a little."

"So, superheroes."

"I'm doing a self-guided interdisciplinary study on them."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"So, this was kind of perfect for you expect for the part where you signed the NDA."

"I did? When was that? You're the one who said that. I never confirmed."

"You talked to Coulson. You saw all the shit that went down. There is no way that you got away without signing an NDA."

"I have never, nor do I ever plan to sign an NDA."

"Darcy, you have to. I had to sign an NDA. I'm pretty sure the only one who didn't have to sign an NDA was Coulson." He shrugs. "And the Asgardians, but that's only because they left before Coulson could debrief them."

"Even the great Son of Coul is not going to try to get the almighty Thor to sign fiddly papers saying that the Son of Odin could be sued if he shares his epic adventures on Midgard."

"Son of Coul?"

She shrugs as she lines up a shot. "It's what Thor called him. Last names in Viking-Norse culture are weird. Thor Odinson. He misunderstood Coulson's name." She shrugs. "Sounds like it should follow the same convention."

"Right, he's never living that down."

"I'd probably be Bitradottir."

"Um, what?"

"Marie means bitter. Which translates to B-I-T-R in Norse."

"Oh, is it always girls named for their mother's and boys for their father's?"

"Um, I don't know, but I don't know the Norse for dad's name. Yeah. So, no to the forfeit?"

"Oh, what the hell? Sure. First to sink a ball loses their underwear. Um." He gets very nervous for no reason. "Is that just bottoms for you?"

She smiles at him, and it's not a nice smile. It's a little thin and a little forced. "No way. We said underwear. You have an undershirt on? We're playing for tops and bottoms."

Crap. He has the feeling that she hadn't originally meant that and that he accidentally dared her into it. "Darcy- I-"

She shoots him a glare.

"Yeah, I have an undershirt." He has a really bad feeling about this. Well, that probably describes the majority of his life anyway. What's one more?

* * *

Clint stares at the table. For the last hour and a half, the cue ball had been pretty much the only ball moving around the table. He and Darcy had been aiming in between the colored balls.

They'd been trading blow for blow in both word and dead. Except now there were two less balls rolling around on the table.

"Ah." He scratches the back of his neck.

"Oh, calm down, bird-brain."

"Um, I can release -"

"Oh, no. I came up with the forfeit. I increased the stakes. Give me your jacket. I'll be right back." She yanks it away from him and strides away.

Clint slouches down into his chair. Dammit. This is awkward.

"Clint, what're you doing?"

"Coulson! Hey, I, um, nothing! I am doing nothing. I'm grabbing a beer."

"You're hustling someone."

"No! I, mean, yeah, I was also playing pool, but, no, not hustling."

"Clint, stop lying. You always play to your opponent's-" He cuts himself off and goes very still. Then, he very slowly tilts his head to one side. "Clint, you didn't listen to me."

"I know!" Clint pulls at his hair. "I'm sorry, but she scolded you, and I don't even get to do that. And she hasn't signed an NDA! Why hasn't she signed an NDA?!"

"Oh, Tweetie, you are just too adorable!" She calls dropping his jacket on his lap. His jacket presumably concealing her underwear. He is in so much trouble. "I just wanna eat you up."

"Barton, her circumstances are unique. More unique than yours. Why'd she have your jacket?"

"Um, no reason. Lost a bet. Clothes as forfeit."

"You lost a bet? And she's giving it back?"

"Um..." Clint hedges. He really didn't want to endure Phil's frowny-face of doom tonight.

"Nah, Locksley won my underwear."

Phil tenses and nods. And there it is in Technicolor. Frowny and full of disapproval and doom. "Right, well, I'll leave you to your drinks."

"Sir-"

"No, Specialist, we'll talk later. Enjoy your night."

Darcy glares at Clint. And, seriously, what the fuck? "What? What did I do?"

"Good question. Why'd he take off like that? I got him to come here, dressed like a normal person. He talks to you for like five seconds and walks away. What did you do?"

"Umm, we're really close?"

"So, he saw you gambling for a young woman's underwear and took off? That's a little more than close." She grins at him. Oh, boy.

"No, wait, it's not like that."

"Methinks, the lady doth protest too much."

"No, seriously, it's not like that between us. We're co-workers. We're close. He recruited me and has been my main handler for a long time. That's it. That's all he wants."

She glares at him. "Is that all you want?"

He shrugs. "It's all that's on offer."

"Bullshit."

"What?"

"You think that he really walked away because your behavior was unprofessional. Nope, that was definitely a 'I'm really jealous, but I'm also not sure I have a right to be' walk away."

"You have a lot of experience with those?"

"Oh, my God! So much experience! It's ridiculous. My dad. He's in love with this woman he works with." She pulls a face. "Or he thinks he is. It's really more of an epic bromance where one of the bros just happens to have breasts, but yeah, he's emotionally stunted. So she dated this one guy, and there was horrenous, obvious levels of sulk. It's astounding that she didn't kill him."

"Huh, and this makes you think that Coulson wants me? Based on the response of your dad?"

"Well, and the fact that he was totally smiling at you before he saw me."

"So, we're friends. People smile at their friends."

"Not like that sweetheart. Trust me. He likes you."

"Whatever, here take your underwear back."

"No, feathers. You won those fair and square. You keep 'em. Burn 'em. I don't care. Just, just don't pine so much. It's not a good look on you."

"I- I can't keep these. Really. You're half my age."

"Dude, you're like thirty-five."

"And you're, what? Nineteen?"

"I just turned twenty-one."

"Whoopie! Still weird."

"Whatever." She smiles at him. "You're weirdly noble. It's adorable. You should ask Coulson if he wants to fuck you."

Clint cannot spend anymore time with this woman. Because he will end up dead in a ditch somewhere, he just knows it. This woman will get him into so much trouble. "So, what about you?"

"No, Clint. Just because you have my underwear does not mean that I'll put out for you. This," She gestures between the two of them, "this is also an epic bromance where one of the bros happens to have breasts."

"God, no, I would die within the week. I meant, no, you know what? I have decided that it will end badly if I try to understand you and explain. I do not want your sex. In the best way possible anyway."

"Of course, bromance."

"I have an ex like you. It was horrible. I had to sleep with one eye open. She was terrifying. She still is terrifying."

"How'd the two of you meet?"

"Nope."

"Nope? What do you mean nope?"

"You will mock me. People always mock me. They never mock her. Too be fair they're afraid she'll eviscerate them. she might."

"So is that your type? Brutally efficient and terrifying?"

Clint sighs and wishes he could deny it. "Apparently?"

"You are a sad little man. Oh well, have you finished interrogating me?"

"Was I?"

"I think so. You saw me talking to Coulson. By the way, you should call him Phil, if you, you know, intend to ask him to jump your bones."

"Yeah."

"Welp, I'm gonna take off. I swear, if I ever find out that you've jerked off over my underwear, I'll kill you." She points at him. "And I mean that in the most nonsexual way possible, you carnival freak."

He smiles at her. "Darce, if we ever meet again, I'm sure this'll have been the beginning of a wonderful friendship."

"So much butchering. You killed it. It is dead and rotting. Have you ever even seen that movie?"

"Nope."

She shakes her head and stands, stretching as she goes. "Right, well, don't stay too much longer. See you around, Clint."

"Yeah." He sighs, slumping to the table. What the fuck. And what is he supposed to do with her underwear.

Goddamn him and his stupid fucking mouth. Well, he's got nothing better to do. He picks up his cell and hits his last call.

"What did you do this time?" Nat growls down the line.

God-fucking-dammit.

* * *

**AN: Ha, poor Clint he tries so hard to be chivalrous. But he's so bad at it.**


End file.
